


Monstrous

by Bellybits



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Culture, M/M, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safer Sex, Sex Is Fun, Trans Male Character, Xenophilia, eventual alien sex, mlm author, trans author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-21 09:13:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13737720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellybits/pseuds/Bellybits
Summary: Normally Shiro would be over the moon for a hot prince panting at his throat, but the viscous glittery yellow blood dripping from three of his ice blue appendages and the cauterized hole in his shoulder are kind of a mood killer.





	1. Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this is definitely inspired by Demenoir's tendency to put Shiro with hot prince's who treat him right. I'm not sure how long this will be, I've got some pretty funky plans but so it's not tagged completely and will be updated as I write more- I just didn't want to spoil it. As always enjoy reading and leave comments and Kudos to fule me.

We named them in commemoration. 

 

Voyager, Curiosity, Explorer, Pioneer, Vanguard, Beacon. Little crafts sent out to take pictures, radio data, ultraviolet and infrared images and waves that we blast back to our planet to decode and reconstruct.

 

It’s beautiful that humans try so desperately to learn, and to show that we are worth discovering in turn. Voyager’s golden record will outlive the human race by millions of years, after two billion the information we engraved on it will finally become indecipherable. Pioneer’s plaque a desperate attempt to show our knowledge, where we are and proof that there is intelligent life to be found there.

 

Shiro wonders if they’ll run into Voyager, out wandering in Interstellar space. He and the other Paladins will be the first humans it’s seen since 1977. Thats a long time to be alone. 

  
  


He’s been told that the numbers are in their favor, that the likelihood of there being life beyond Terra is extremely high. Shiro has never been that great with numbers, he’s a pilot after all, but the heavy breaths of the Valrex Prince ghosting over his neck are pretty good proof of concept.

 

Normally Shiro would be over the moon for a hot prince panting at his throat, but the viscous glittery yellow blood dripping from three of his ice blue appendages and the cauterized hole in his shoulder are kind of a mood killer. 

 

Prince Telrav is kind, his people are pacifists on intraplanetary conflicts and had been incredibly hesitant to side with the coalition. But, after many boring  _ boring _ talks, he and other delegates decided to band the nations of Valrex together to support Voltron. 

 

Too bad there was a coup attempt during the treaty meeting. 

 

The prince had shoved one of the chancellors from the neighboring continent out of the line of fire and taken the plasma bolts himself. His delicate gossamer sash he’d been wearing coming apart at the wound to tumble down and wave behind Shiro as he runs with Telrav over his shoulder towards the castle ship. He can feel the fabric as it whips in the wind and catches against his calves. The prince groans from his position, the sound buzzing lightly behind Shiro’s ear. 

 

“You know, I had thought the first assassination attempt I witnessed would have been my own.” Telrav chuckles in his clicking, nearly reptilian voice. Shiro laughs gently. 

 

“Well your bravery almost made it your own, Prince.” Shiro responds, he can feel Telrav huff against his neck.

 

Shiro jiggles the prince a bit more than the jog he's moving at necessitates. Honestly, how is it that Shiro is attracted to the most self sacrificing men. It’s not like its a conscious thing! He doesn't look at the biceps of an attractive alien and think, ‘Wow, I bet he’d take a bullet for a foreign emissary! Let. Me. Get. On. That.’ That’s just kind of how it always goes, Coran never fails to inform him that he thinks it’s hilarious. 

 

Keith is worse, his little brother instincts making sure that he never misses an opportunity to tease Shiro about his preferences. He made a list. 

 

Shortec from the Terchow system was twice as tall as Shiro and could only be loosely described as ‘humanoid’. Zerth of the Angole people had a head of prehensile locs that made Shiro blush whenever he caught sight of them. Queen Versel had rescued a profusely bleeding Pidge and kicked open the palace doors to get the green paladin to the medical bay; Coran had said that every star in the galaxy had been in Shiro’s eyes. Excetra.

 

They’ve made it to the Castle now, the healing technology on Valrex isn’t nearly as advanced as Altean medicine -later he would realize this is due to the Valrex inhabitants having unparallel regenerative abilities- so the prince’s advisors had quickly yielded to Allura’s steamrolling insistence that Telrav be taken to the ship’s healing pods immediately.

 

“Paladin Shiro, I hardly think it's necessary to continue carrying me. Our people’s blood clots quickly, I doubt I even need one of your ‘pods’!” Telrav whines, he uses his unbloody arms to prod at either side of Shiro’s face. As he talks Shiro can feel the other man’s breath on his ear, instead of soft lips there's the gentle caress of the prince’s bottom tusks that run along his handsome jaw. He thinks of Oji-san with a clown face painted on his fat belly in a vain attempt to keep a flush from rising to burn on his face.

 

“Well I think Allura would kick my ass if she found out I let an injured prince hurt himself on the way to the medical wing,” he retorts. The prince smooshes Shiro’s cheeks together with his hands in some small form of playful retaliation. Shiro does his best to ignore how hot he feels under Telrav’s soft, scaled skin. 

 

“Paaalaaadin Shiiiiroooo.”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Please, I’m nearly thirty passes aged, I can handle my own wounds.”

 

“Hmmm, no.”

 

“I’ll pinch you”

 

“You won't if you don't want me to drop you on your head.”

 

“Aha! Checkmate!” 

 

Shiro doesn't have long to parse what the prince means as sharp fingers pinch the meat of his ass. He lets out a squeal unbecoming of a war veteran of his rank.

 

He doesn't drop the Prince however, he's not so stupid as to actually hurt an ally to the cause, no matter how handsy. Instead he swings the prince down from his shoulder, accommodating all six of Telrav’s long appendages, so that he’s holding him like a blushing, ablite bloody, bride. 

 

“Well hello handsome one. Put me down?” Telrav chirps, he kicks his feet up to cross, relaxing back like he’s out sunbathing and not being carried into a hospital setting. His bird like toes wiggle happily, talons clinking against his sapphire toe rings. 

 

Telrav’s four tendrils (?), extending from the top of each shoulder in pairs, wrap delicately around Shiro’s bicep. He idly notes that there's a dusting of dainty feather-like hairs at the base of each limb, he wonders where else they grow. The prince is right, the blood that had been oozing from the slender limbs had hardened and flaked off, leaving shiny fleshy looking scabs in its wake. Even the bleeding in his shoulder has slowed to a crawl. 

 

“We’re already here, Prince.” Shiro simpers through the blush burning high on his cheeks. The tendrils squeeze gently, if in comfort or an excuse to grope Shiro can’t tell.

 

Shiro gently sets the Prince down on a spare cot in the pod room. Lance has dubbed said cot as ‘The Fret Bed’ because more or less it’s only used who one of them is on death’s door in a pod and others need to mother hen.

 

“I’ll be right back, I just need to set the healing pod on autoasses, then you can get in. I’m sure it’ll only take half a varga till you’re back to full health.”

 

“Do not worry Paladin Shiro, I will enjoy the view you’ve allowed me.” 

 

Telrav winks, his tendrils curling off Shiro’s arm and waving in what he assumes is a flirty manner. If he’s being honest, it is kind of cute. 

 

Shiro huffs out a laugh and turns to type at the healing pod, and if he cocks his hip in a way that he knows makes his butt look good that's no ones business than his. 

 

When he turns back around Telrav doesn't attempt to look like he wasn’t staring, when he smiles his sharp teeth send a shiver right to Shiro’s stomach.

 

Telrav slides to his feet, his talons clicking on the glassy floor of the pod room. 

 

“Though I enjoy the feeling of your arms around me, Paladin Shiro, I think I can make my way from here.” The prince says as he brushes past Shiro to step up into pod. Willow glass shivers into place in front of his face. 

 

He whoosh of air that trails after him smells nice, like jasmine incense and gentle musk.

 

God damn it he has a type.

  
  
  


Shiro is sitting straight backed against the wall of the pod room while he waits for the prince to come out of his pod. The room is incredibly sparse, only the cot and the single pod thats been raised are there. Not wanting to accidentally fall asleep and have Telrav emerge alone he had forgone the cot. Besides it was easier to meditate sitting, for Shiro at least.

 

_ I see you’ve found another prospect. He is strong, I approve. _

 

“Hello Black, you know thats not whats going on. I just took him here to heal,” Shiro huffs back. Though it’s not really ‘speaking’ per say, more like he’s just narrating in his head.

 

The black lion steps gently into existence, Shiro doesn’t think any of the other lions have appeared for their paladins though they must talk to them. But Black had learned early on that Shiro does not do well with voices in his head, apparently the most convenient way to circumvent that is to present as a massive maned lioness. She’s followed him around the castle a few times when hes been up pacing, carefully supporting his shaking limbs as he struggles through the aftereffects of a nightmare or flashback. Black had assured him that he was the only one on board who could see her, the words slipping gently through her huge maw. Apparently her quintessance was visible to only those who had,  _ in your simian terms _ , matching photoreceptors in their eyes. Or that was the closest equivalent, Shiro hadn’t pryed. 

  
  


_ Ah but you wish you could bed him don’t you. There is no shame in this, many creatures are healed by intimate pleasures, you are no different. _

 

Black pads forward, one of her paws is the size of Shiro’s entire lower back, she pushes her scarred face against his in greeting. He lifts his human arm and buries his fingers in her mane, soft and smelling slightly of metal and raspberries. 

 

“I’m not ashamed, just aware of the situation. He’s hurt, probably delirious with blood loss or adrenaline or something. We can’t afford for me to accidentally step on cultural toes for an hour or two of fun. The universe isn’t worth the risk.” If he had been speaking outloud he would have lost his breath as Black chooses that moment to flop herself onto his lap. At her size she’s still eye level with Shiro.

 

_ We both know that you desire him, and I’m telling you that it is alright. I sense no ill will in the Valrex prince, only warmth. Besides, I’d much rather you ‘step on a toe’ than go mad with pent up lust.  _

 

If a cat could smile Black’s would be full of smugness, Shiro shoves at her face to hide his embarrassment she’s got her nose right up against his and her whiskers prod at him. He’s lucky that the black lion hadn’t turned out to be a maternal figure, talking about his sex life with her would have been much worse. Instead she's more like his old drinking buddy from Japan, Pinako; wise beyond anything but with a slightly abrasive and blunt way of sticking her nose in anything and everything.

 

“You’re one to speak of lust Black, you have a literal harem.”

 

_ My pride is full of beauties isnt it? _

 

“That’s not the point you goof” Shiro knocks their foreheads together with a chuckle. Black’s response is to drag her sandpaper tongue up the side of his face, catching on his five O’clock shadow and pulling one side of his undercut up into a frizzy mess.

 

“Hello there, Hero”

 

Shiro startles, the form of the black lion disappearing in an amused puff from his lap leaving him sitting against the wall with one side of his hair sticking out in a no doubt unattractive way and a very handsome very much in full health Telrav crouching by his boots with a grin on his face.

 

Telrav reaches forward as Shiro stutters out a flustered hello, his dry skin sliding through the cowlick on his head, cat lick, lion lick? He’s pulled from his musings as Telrav presses their foreheads together, the clicking of delicate chains hanging from his ears tapping into his tusks sounds like wind chimes. The prince's sweet smelling breath washes over Shiro’s face as he lets out a happy sounding sigh. 

 

“Paladin Shiro, I appreciate your,” He pauses to chuckle. “Your heroism of  _ saving _ me today. It is my pleasure to invite you to the palace’s Worshiping ritual tonight.” He pulls back to look at Shiro hopefully.

 

Shiro wracks his brain for the information he’d struggled to memorize this morning about Valrex, especially Telrav’s principality of Delrus Rig. Allura and Coran had consulted Shiro about any cultural clashes he might expect, he hadn’t found anything worrying. Coran had gone on to inform both he and the Princess that according to the Olkari the three of them were the only ones on the team eligible for an invitation to worship with the people of Delrus Rig. 

 

From what he can scrape together it involves a lot of bodily contact and what had translated to Shiro as ‘ambrosia steam’. 

 

He knows better than to accept an invitation to something alien without full communication- the reason they started consulting before planet visits was because Hunk had been  _ slightly _ traumatized when the leaders of a planet each offered him a tear of flesh from their own arms. It had almost gotten them on the people's bad side before Keith stepped up and unflinchingly allowed the leaders to drape their flesh around his shoulders like a bloody sash. Considering Keith used to spend his days having to literally hunt for his next meal in the desert Shiro’s not too surprised.

 

“Prince Telrav, I’m very flattered but- Well I’m afraid I’m not fully informed on your culture, the Castle of Lion’s database is very out of date. I’m not sure I understand your true offer.” Shiro says, hoping the red rising to his cheeks does not discount the beseeching look on his face. 

 

“Oh of course! I would not expect you to know every facet of every alien species you meet, considering how many you’re expected to interact with.” Telrav replies, embarrassment tinting his thin face a light mint green. 

 

Instead of standing up Telrav folds his jointed legs beneath himself, looking for all intents and purposes like an egret settling down on its nest. He slides his hand from the side of Shiro’s head down over his neck and arm to play with his human hand. 

 

“Worship is, hm, well I suppose it serves as a bonding ceremony for Delrus Rig. We gather in one of the temple rooms and share libations, then those who have been invited from outside of the community will make the choice of seeking a partner or group of partners or waiting to be chosen themselves.” 

 

As the prince is speaking Shiro notices that the four limbs that had held onto him while he was carrying him have hidden themselves away around Telrav’s arms, lining the grooves running along the curve of his biceps so they're nearly indecipherable from the form of his muscles. 

 

“Then they will pluck holy leaves from the central garden in the room and steep them in one of the many cauldrons. You inhale the steam and depending on which leave you’ve taken you bond with your partners in specific ways. Some of the ambrosia will link your minds, others physical sensations, visions of the past or future, all of them euphoric.” He sighs again as he talks, the obvious excitement on his face is almost enough to convince Shiro to agree immediately. But there's one thing he needs to sort out first. 

 

“Forgive me if I’m being offensive but, is it required to have sex with our partners during this?” 

 

Telrav looks a bit shocked, not in a way that would indicate Shiro has said something particularly rude though. His hands gently tighten around Shiro’s.

 

“Stars above, Paladin Shiro what thoughts you have! We expect nothing from worship other than connections, many may choose to go about it through mating, but nothing would ever be required of you. The ritual is meant to open channels of communication and goodwill, simply speak to your partners if that is all you wish.” 

 

“I’m not opposed to it, I just like knowing all of my options. Though-would it be considered rude if I pick a partner before the ritual starts?” Shiro asks, hoping that he sounds suave instead of ignorant. He finds himself hoping that a lot lately, now that he’s having to navigate a brand new culture every few days. 

 

“If you would feel more at ease if I were to stay by your side for whichever ambrosia you choose I would be delighted to do so.” The prince says, the mint of his cheeks darkens into a forest green as he speaks. There's a hunger in his eyes that Shiro had seen earlier as well making his stomach flip and fizz. 

 

Shiro is absolutely down for sleeping with the prince himself, he’d be a liar if he said otherwise honestly. After all he’s shown more than enough interest. He’s also brave enough to put his life on the line for the leader of another country, for the sake of the universe, and also really strikingly attractive, and he smells intoxicating despite having just recently been grievously injured. Shiro twists his wrist so that his palm lays flat against the other man’s, looking up through his lashes at his pretty geko-like eyes.  

 

Telrav smiles.

  
  



	2. Ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nyall here's some good Shiro content to temper the bad taste that Kuron left in our mouths from season five eh? Also I would love some feedback on how you want the boning down to go because I have a few ideas of what I want Telrav's genitals to be but I'm not dead set on anything quite yet. Let me know what you think!

Shiro’s hair is being yanked down from the fuzzy puff it had become after his shower, Coran’s deft hands pulling the longer fringe back in a french braid that ties off at the back of his head where the undercut starts. The tugging is a comfortable sensation, interrupted only when the Altean pauses to twist an ornate pin into the weave. The white section of his bangs is arranged to fan evenly through the braid- giving him a salt and pepper look rather than the straight back skunk line he’d feared it would end up being. When Coran finally deems his head presentable he steps away to let Shiro apply his own eyeliner, as much as Shiro trusts the Altean he'd rather not have anything that sharp near his eyes being held by someone else. As soon as hes finished the practiced motion of laying the wings the khol pen is knocked out of his hand by the force of Coran throwing an arm around his shoulders.

 

“You look as if a galaxy was sprinkled on your head number one, quite dashing in my humble opinion.” Coran says, he meets Shiro’s eyes in the mirror with a playfull smile twitching under his mustache. 

 

Before Shiro can attempt to brush off the compliment he’s being pulled to his feet and herded over to the three angle mirror in the corner of the powder room. He goes along easily, enjoying not having to take the lead for a little while, Coran has a lot more experience in dealing with alien politics than him anyway. The hand leaves his low back but the warm spot remains as Coran walks from his side to rifle through the drawers lining the walls. Shiro dutifully drops the dressing robe into a neat little pile on the ottoman nearby. He’s left looking at his own half naked self, corded scars littering his torso and thighs that snake along the memories of long healed wounds of the arena. He rubs the juncture of his metal arm where the stump meets prosthetic, the skin there is desensitized to prevent nerve damage from repetitive motion but it still manages to get sore every now and then. Moving up from there he traces the lines of claw marks that cusp over his shoulder and collarbone in three jagged lines. On Terra when he got top surgery he was worried about scarring, but the thin lines around his nipples seem nearly invisible compared to huge marks slashing across his stomach and left pectoral. 

 

When Coran returns Shiro can hardly see his crop of orange hair over the heap of clothes in his arms. He expects Coran to set the fabric down and leave, instead he pulls a  _ very _ thin slip out of his pile and holds it up in front of the human's chest as if checking the size. The slip trails all the way to the floor with long sleeves to match, the fabric ripples with color as the shifts in the other man’s grip. Coran drapes it around his shoulders and Shiro is stunned into obedience as his arms are pulled gently into the garment. The soft sleeves gather by his elbows and drip down past his fingers like the fins of a betta fish. The behavior feels startlingly formal to the paladin, though Coran looks more relaxed than Shiro has ever seen him.

 

“Coran I hardly think this is necessary, I can dress myself.” Shiro says, he tries to quash how pampered he feels. The Altean man ignores him and continues on adjusting the soft fabric of the formal robe he’d deemed appropriate for the worship ceremony. 

 

“You know I used to do this for Alfor and Iruvia, when they were too tired or too busy to do it themselves that is. It makes me happy to take care of the people closest to me, I’m too old to deny myself the little things anymore.” He says this as he continues on with dressing Shiro, pulling several more pieces of cloth from the pile and attaching them to the ensemble in a way that's almost as confusing as it is beautiful. 

 

Shiro hums in response, there's a curl of warmth flickering about his chest as he muses on Corans words. The advisor really is a relic, a man ripped out of time and his home by a war catalyzed by the greed of an undead tyrant. His only friends and family left are those living on the castle and a scatter of other long lived alien’s who may as well be ghosts. Shiro grabs Coran's wrist when he reaches to adjust the same length of fabric for the third time, his bright blue eyes snap up to meet his instantly.

 

“Thank you Coran, for your help. And for sharing this with me.” Shiro says, eyes crinkling at the sides as he smiles. 

 

He returns the tender look for a moment before slipping into a goofy tearful prattle about how fetching Shiro looks in Altean finery and how the Delrus Rig constituency better appreciate all his hard work. Shiro doesn't bring up the purple blush that had shivered under Coran’s chromatophores before he could adjust their pigment to hide it.  

* * *

  
  


Shiro is stuck between cursing and thanking Coran’s foresight of stuffing him into an outfit that somehow manages to be revealing without actually showing much skin. The sheer Altean gossamer wrapped in layers nearly mimics a festival yukata that he may have worn at home, so it's comforting in that way. But he feels rather exposed being planetside without his paladin armor. It had taken nearly five minutes to secure each section of cloth, but Shiro is glad that they hadn’t stopped after the first layer as it had been nearly transparent. Not exactly how he wanted the regular citizens to see him in public. Coran’s chipper, ‘that's the leisure layer!’ rings through his head as he restlessly grabs his forearms inside the robe’s top sleeves as he waits for the prince. 

 

He’s not sure why he’s suddenly nervous, he doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to. The treaty is now signed and there's no real political pressure involved anymore with his interactions with the people here. He had been greeted happily by those he’d passed on his way into the temple standing at the center of the capital of Delrus Rig, having been dropped off by a proud looking Coran a few ticks ago. It’s fine. No one will be offended if he decides he doesn't want to partake in the aphrodisiac ambrosia and he has full confidence that Telrav would gladly chase out anyone who tried to push it. He’d even assured Shiro that even though most of the other participants would disrobe after choosing their partners that none of them would judge him if he decided to stay covered, considering how many alien guests they hosted on the regular.

 

This isn’t his first time being naked around large groups of people, he grew up in a country where onsens were very popular and public bathing rather common. Hell this wouldn’t even be his first orgy, first  _ alien _ orgy maybe. 

 

He's actually kind of excited to be casually nude around other adults again, the Alteans on the ship are strangely modest and the other paladins were- at the least- seven years younger than him. 

 

But there's something tickling the back of his mind, a gentle foreboding that's just a flavor off of his usual anxiety. He likes to think that, perhaps, it’s excitement. 

 

“Are you ready to go in, Paladin Shiro?” 

 

Shiro jumps as Telrav slides his arm around his shoulder, muttering reassuringly in his ear that he’s welcome to back out if at any point he becomes uncomfortable. Shiro lets his arms drop from the soft sleeves, sucks in a stabilizing breath and turns to smile at the beautiful alien man beside him.

 

“I’m ready.” 

 

Telrav grins and slides their hands together into a loose tangle of soft skin and dulled claws. With his free hand the prince gently pushes the ornate temple door they're standing in front of open. Instantly Shiro is hit with the same blend of musk and jasmine he had gotten earlier, mixed with something familiar. Similar to the scent he would pick up off of Matt after a stressful night of studying, and later, binge eating. He struggles to hold in a gawaff when it clicks what it is. It smells like bud. Apparently aliens have space weed. Or something close to it. What the hell is his life.

 

Telrav pulls Shiro into the room by their joined hands, the air is cloying and thick with the voices of other aliens from Delrus Rig and their guests. Theres music floating through the air that features an instrument eerily similar to a sitar, the tune both intoxicating and distracting as Shiro struggles to parse out the melody and tempo of the alien drums. It reminds him of what he assumes the atmosphere of a high class opium den must be like, Pinako would have loved it. As soon as the first person spots the prince the ambient chatter of the room immediately crescendos into a chorus of happy greetings and the trilling that Telrav had assured the paladins early on was a very good, very happy sound.

 

The room is a sight to behold, shaped like a teardrop with a tiered floor that dips low in the wider end to hold- what Shiro assumes- is the central garden Telrav mentioned. The garden itself is several concentric circles of different kinds of plants, ranging from fuzzy lambs ear types to crystalline looking things that read more like rock candy than organic material. The walls are draped with transparent mossy plants that wave in the air despite the lack of a breeze, bunching up on the floor into pillow-like clouds that evoke the image of anemones. Shiro can see several people already lounging on the moss pillows, others scratching the plants into mounds around cauldrons that they’ve apparently pulled down from the grip of the walls where Shiro can see several unused ones are still embedded. 

 

An alien that must be another citizen of Delrus Rig runs up to where Shiro and the prince are standing, punctuated by the harsh clicking of their talons on the marble entranceway. They’re the same general shape as the prince, likely the same species, but instead of Telrav’s icy blue complexion, they are a deep cobalt. Their jewelry jingles as they move and Shiro notices with a slight shock that they’re already completely nude, the little feather-hairs he'd spotted on the prince's tendrils earlier appear on them as well, traveling around their plump body in fluffy looking spirals. He realizes that he's staring and quickly averts his eyes from where they’ been steadily drifting lower. Judging by the smug look on Telrav’s face he wasn’t exactly subtle. 

 

The alien lets out a delighted trill when they reach the pair, the vibrations causing the chains hanging from their jaw tusks to shiver. 

 

“Telrav! How good it is to see you’ve brought one of our new friends to worship. Tell me, will he be choosing a partner or are you going to leave this poor _ lesha  _ to the  _ crotel _ .” They chitter, Shiro realizes with embarrassment that they and the prince had been speaking as they had been walking up, while he as lost in thought. Taking hold of Shiro and Telrav's joined hands the alien excitedly inspects the difference between their skin and nails, eyes flicking between that and their faces

 

Telrav lets out a hearty chuckle, “Palwaie! It’s been nearly a shift since the worship chambers have been this jubilant. While I already know his choice, perhaps we should let dear Shiro speak for himself?”

 

Shiro gratefully squeezes the prince’s hand. Palwaie turns their jeweltone gaze to him, he has to tilt his head up slightly to actually make eye contact with them. He swallows the spit in his mouth and tries to ignore the way his throat clicks. There's a lot of eyes on him now beside those of the two he’s talking to, despite the din of the room continuing to buzz in the background, Shiro can tell the twenty or so other alien’s are all paying attention. 

 

“I will be accompanying the prince tonight, but if he wants to connect with others as well I won’t keep him from it.” Nice and diplomatic. Coran would be proud.

 

Palwaie smiles, sharp teeth peeking from behind their full lips. He's struck not for the first time how beautiful this species is. They trill again and lean down closer into Shiro’s space and he fights hard not to show how flustered he feels inside. Dropping their hands Palwaie cups his cheeks, tilting his head this way and that, like one would do with a particularly cute cat. When they speak their breath brushes against his face.

 

“Paladin, no one keeps another in worship. If Telrav is your partner then he will stay with you not out of obligation but of his own desire, though I suggest the two of you wedge the proverbial door open to host others. I would personally  _ love _ to connect with the pair of you.” Palwaie purrs tilting their head playfully to match how they’ve moved Shiro’s and fluffing the ruff of tiny feathers resting along their collar bone. 

 

Shiro flicks his eyes over to Telrav, catching a considering expression that quickly melts into a comforting smile as they make eye contact. He squeezes Shiro’s hand again.

 

“Well, Paladin Shiro and I need to set up for the ceremony. I’ll let you know if you should prepare yourself for the company of one of the universe’s saviors, Palwaie.” 

 

Telrav dips his head, his jewlry tinkling, and pulls Shiro off towards the narrowed end of the room where the transparent mossy walls tapper into a lovely shade of topaz.

 

He watches as the prince leans into the wall and trills at it, an octave lower than the ones Shiro’s heard before. The plant matter vibrates back and the black paladin lets out a small gasp as a cauldron that had been nestled high up toward ceiling begins to lower, reminecant of the helping hands scene from a vintage David Bowie movie that he can’t recall the name of at the moment.

 

Once in the prince’s grasp the cauldron is completely released from the wall, it’s much smaller than Shiro had anticipated. The other groups around them all have much larger pots. Telrav must have noticed his confusion because he speaks towards him even as he uses his talons to nudge the moss away from what Shiro can only guess to be a heat source embeded in the floor. 

 

“Considering we will be spending most of the night sharing ambrosia between just the two of us, I called down a more suitably sized vessel than the others. Do not worry my Hero, I intend to spoil you the best that I am able.”

 

“I don’t doubt that, can I help?” Shiro responds, stepping over a small pouf of moss to gently place his human hand against the exposed skin of the Prince’s back.

 

Telrav chirrups, straightening up and beaming at Shiro as if he just offered him the world. He’s shocked when the prince simply guids his prosthetic hand from where its hanging at his side, to a clasp at the collar of his halter style tunic. 

 

Well then. Shiro hadn’t intended to offer his help in  _ undressing _ the prince, but he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

 

Shiro take the hint and easily slides his other hand up Telrav’s back, slower than is really necessary but he enjoys the way the prince shivers at his touch, to aid in unclasping the garment. The gauzy fabric easily falls away under his fingers and pools around the prince’s feet. He’s now face to face with a very naked, very attractive prince who wants to  _ spoil  _ him. The last of Shiro’s lingering anxiety falls to the back of his mind as a pretty blush spreads gently over Telrav’s face, proving he's at least as excited as Shiro is. 

 

“May I return the favor, my friend?” says Telrav, he idly steps out of and flicks away his discarded robe and Shiro notices that only a few of the other aliens in the room have any form of clothing still on. 

 

Shiro feels a bit overdressed now. Well, not for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way the kind of music that really captures the mood I'm going for in the worship room is like a mix of Beats Antique 'The lantern', 'Egyptic', and Gramatik's 'Oriental Job'. Hop I managed to get that across without the actual music lmao.


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